


Birthdays

by geraineon



Category: Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu | Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 11:45:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19084366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geraineon/pseuds/geraineon
Summary: Reuenthal’s memories of his birthdays can be divided into three categories: Pre-Mittermeyer, Post-Mittermeyer and Post-Evangeline.





	Birthdays

Reuenthal’s memories of his birthdays can be divided into three categories: Pre-Mittermeyer, Post-Mittermeyer and Post-Evangeline. Pre-Mittermeyer, nobody he cared about either in a positive or a negative way had celebrated his birth. Truly, it was not something to be celebrated, and he was keenly aware of that fact. It was like any other day to his father, and all the servants in his household had long been conditioned to treat it the same way lest they incur the wrath of the head of the household. He had access to wine at a very young age, he could hardly remember when he started anymore; when you are a noble, details like legal drinking age did not apply after all. Growing up, he had women of all ages trying to throw themselves at him and he supposed they must have wanted something from him (what was it that they truly wanted, he had wondered, and he still did not know). There was a servant; young, very beautiful and she had found him drunk out of his mind in his room, holding the pieces of a broken wine glass he did not remember breaking. He had stared at the jagged edges with such intent that she had immediately tried to take them away from him in panic. He had flashes of memories of that night still; of the red blossoming on the palms of her hands and his where the edges had cut through, the warm wetness and later, how she had held him, and how he had  _held her._

She was dismissed the very next day.

It has been said that the first time defined all the other times one has sex, and so perhaps it was because of this, or perhaps he hated the idea of being with a woman on his birthday so deeply that he found himself with a woman anyway on every single subsequent birthdays, taking all he can and more from the bodies of the willing, and letting them take from him whatever it was that they sought. He was not surprised all his short flings with these women end the morning after; he knew he had nothing of worth to give and they probably realized it too.  

Birthdays Post-Mittermeyer was an entirely different affair. Mittermeyer would invite him over, and though Reuenthal had declined it the first year (Mittermeyer turned up at his home with wine anyway, found him tangled with another woman and left thoroughly scandalized), it had become a bit of a tradition to go to Mittermeyer’s house in the evening, play poker and drink until night turned to day. Conversations with Mittermeyer was always a learning process; he learnt how far he could push, he learnt to hide how much he truly loathed this specific day of the year, he learnt to joke about his own mortality in a way that was not entirely distasteful to his friend. He learnt how to change the topic, pass it off as a distasteful joke when Mittermeyer was hurt on his behalf. It was still a novel feeling, that there was one person who cared about him more than he cared about himself. It was also a very novel feeling, that he was capable of caring for a person. In those years of birthdays Post-Mittermeyer, he had started to let himself be convinced, that perhaps it was not entirely a tragedy that his mother had failed in killing him as a baby.

He thought that their tradition would end after Mittermeyer married Evangeline but on his birthday after Mittermeyer’s marriage, Mittermeyer had invited him over again as if nothing had changed, offering up Evangeline’s Sunday roast which he swore was the best ever in the whole known universe. He had almost turned down his invitation but a brief re-examination of his own instinctive distaste at the idea led to him agreeing to it. He had turned up with his best whiskey, determined to get extremely drunk and possibly be thrown out of their house that night. After all, as much as Mittermeyer would like to believe so, Evangeline was a woman and therefore not an angel (if angels even exist) and he was mildly curious about how much he could push when Evangeline was in the picture, and what it would take for Mittermeyer to give up on their friendship.

It was partway through dinner, when he was on his third glass of whiskey and an increasingly flippant and debauched retelling of his recent conquests, ignoring Mittermeyer’s strained pleas for him to stop when Evangeline threw a glass of water at Reuenthal and calmly told Mittermeyer to please get some dry cloth from the kitchen.

Mittermeyer opened his mouth to protest, then saw the steel in Evangeline’s eyes and meekly followed her orders. He did flash a warning look at Reuenthal before he left the room.

When Mittermeyer was well and truly out of hearing range, Evangeline had a talk with Reuenthal. It was the first time Reuenthal actually had a good look at his best friend’s wife. Young, beautiful and with such clear eyes, like Mittermeyer. The look of someone who believed in the inherent good of the universe. She had clearly been affected by his actions that night. Her lips were pursed, and her hands were trembling by her side. But when she spoke, her voice was steady.

“You are Wolf’s friend, and he cares about you a lot. And because Wolf cares about you, I do too. I am not taking him away from you, but you are not allowed to use him to hurt yourself. It’s not fair to Wolf,” she had said.

Reuenthal just murmured an apology, but internally, he was struck by her astute observation. He himself had not realize that it was what he had set out to do that night. His friend should not be used as a weapon against himself. That would not be fair to Mittermeyer indeed. He excused himself and left before Mittermeyer made it back with dry cloth. In a way, he had succeeded in what he had set out to do that night; the only difference was instead of being kicked out of their house, he had removed himself.

The next day, he had sent a bouquet of flowers to Evangeline as an apology. Evangeline sent back an invitation to dinner again, which Reuenthal interpreted as forgiveness. He brought over a bottle of wine.

Birthdays Post-Evangeline went pretty much the way of birthdays Post-Mittermeyer, but with the addition of Evangeline and what they now call “Reuenthal’s Special Stew”. It took a while for Reuenthal to be able to stay past dinner; self-loathing always reared up on that special day, exacerbated by seeing Mittermeyer and his wife being so happy together, and it was hard to walk the tightrope of emotions without saying something he would regret. But with time, he learnt how to rein it in. It was easier with Evangeline giving him hard looks when he started to slip. Somewhere along the way, he had even started to look forward to his birthday, if only for the stew. 


End file.
